This Ain't the End
by RheesMag
Summary: Mourning the death of his mother after the downfall of Terminus, Gareth struggles to keep hold over his sanity as he formulates a plan of attack. What he soon discovers is that his mind can be an even bigger enemy than the humans and dead alike.
1. Chapter 1

There was no easy way to admit she was dying; yet that was exactly what was happening when the mysterious grey-haired lady opened the back door for the walkers. Pain was something Mary was used to, but it blinded her as she looked down and saw the dead feasting on her. Too weak, too tired to defend herself, she hoped Gareth would never find her like this.

He was already in deep enough trying to find Rick and spare their home, even as Mary knew it was lost. There was no way they could stay after losing critical protection for their community. A flash of anger burned through Mary while she contemplated the predicament they were in _because_ of the ringleader.

Shaking her head at how stupid Rick and the grey-haired woman were, she trained her ears to the sounds of fighting coming from outside. Many of their own were now tasked with defending themselves against the enemy. Like they did last time; when they stored away any thoughts of squeamishness, and killed the people who took from them.

Mary _wished_ she could be out there, but there was no way around the gunshot to her leg and the walkers the woman so cruelly let in to devour her. Wriggling her body under the pain of their fingers digging into her exposed flesh, she wondered if this is what _their_ victims felt like before the slaughter: Pain, mixed in with terror of the unknown, and maybe a little relief they would not have to suffer any longer.

That was how Mary felt while her fingers groped for the gun that had been knocked from her hand. The weapon would help, but would ultimately prove useless in saving her. There was nothing for her to live for any longer. Alex, her baby, was dead, and Gareth probably was, too. Her entire family had been taken from her, and now her home. Fingers slick with blood, she inched just a little closer to the gun, and snagged it.

Gritting her teeth against the pain that was overpowering, the former nurse pointed the weapon at the nearest walker that was presently scooping out her insides. Heart pounding erratically knowing the end was coming, Mary eased her finger over the trigger, and pulled. The shot took down the closest walker, and a few others in the room were quickly shot down, as well. Feeling better that some control had been given back to her, she did not have the bullets left to kill the lone one.

Content to let whatever happened take place, she hoped her end would be quick, and she would not have to suffer anymore. It had been that way since the turn, and especially after making the turn to their new way of living. Scratching her nails along the ground in response to the pain, she remembered the way she felt when her mouth met its first taste of human meat. The concept of it was sickening, but the taste was intoxicating after being starved.

The unmistakable sound of gunfire met her sharp hearing. This time, it was closer to the church that had become a means of purging the grief that came from the siege. It was Gareth who proposed a ceremony to honor the ones they lost. Standing in the place that was used as a spare room, she listened to her people give tearful accounts of those they lost. Most of them were strong, and were unshakably stoic in the face of their pain.

It seemed oddly fitting that she would die in a place that was built to pay tribute to the dead. Looking straight ahead of her, Mary made out the words that had been painted in block letters by an artistically gifted member of Terminus. The words had been her idea, a reminder that they would never be vulnerable again. Toby, the artist, took the paintbrush with ease, and slowly scrawled the words along the wall.

 _NEVER AGAIN, NEVER TRUST. WE FIRST, ALWAYS._

Coming into the room and viewing the message was validation of their choice. Sure, she felt horrible that they brought people in on the chance they might be their next meal, but the message was clear to her. They were the butchers, the ones who refused to let compassion cloud their judgment. As a former nurse, it had been hard to develop that approach, but it had been done out of necessity.

Drawn to the door when she heard a noise, she wondered if it was another walker. The one that remained in the room, had long since started snacking on her fading body. Before, Mary would have been horrified that something like that was happening, but she knew there was no point fighting it when death would be a mercy compared to this. When the person made his appearance, she was stunned to see her son.

Gareth had fought through the masses out there, and had come looking for her. The relief that painted his face when he came, was now marred with fury and disbelief. Crossing the room in one single stride, her son ripped the walker from her, and killed it with his knife. Dropping to his knees, Mary could see about a hundred different emotions cross over his face while he knelt behind her, her head coming to rest on his lap.

"Mom-"

"I thought you were gone," Mary choked, reaching her hand up to touch his face. Her eyes focused on his features, needing something to ground her.

Gareth offered a smile at her words. "Can't get rid of me that easy." His fingers, hurt from battle and calloused, took her hand while his free hand smoothed her hair behind her ear.

"The tank, our _home_. What about Kaylee? Or Theresa?"

There was not much Mary cared about other than the people who had become part of them. Kaylee was much like her, and had the same compassion that Mary found so impossible to get rid of. Theresa was another case, and became a source of consternation for Gareth when he used her as a spotter.

"Shh, shh," Gareth soothed. "They're okay."

"I'm glad."

" _You're_ gonna be okay, too. We"ll fix this up when we-"

Mary shook her head, biting her lip, and trying hard to keep the tears at bay. When she looked at the man holding her in his arms, it was the son she comforted when he got hurt on the playground. Or the one who came to her when he needed advice. She even saw some of his father in him, but more than anything, she saw a little boy who could not imagine life without his mother.

"Sweetheart, there isn't anything you can do for this. Not this time, Gare." There was nothing she wanted more than to lift his pain, but she could not.

"Kaylee," Gareth began, taking a deep breath. "You taught her some tricks. She can work some of her mojo, and fix this."

"Not...not with a bite wound. Gareth, I need you to remember something for me, okay?" Mary searched his eyes, but saw nothing but denial at what this was.

"We're not doing this. We're not having the 'final talk' when you tell me how it should be, and that I need to carry on."

"Not that. I was going to tell you not to be scared because there's so much of it now. You are braver and _better_ than you think you are. Don't...don't be afraid to cry when you need to. All leaders, yes even _you_ , need to cry."

Mary had spoken those words to him after Gareth put his father down after he was bit by a walker they ran into while looking for supplies. With a steely expression on his face, Gareth drove the knife through his father's head after he took his last breath. Standing up after it was done, Mary wound her arms around his shoulders, and leaned in close. The devastation was apparent, but Gareth refused to show it.

"When did you become so wise?" Gareth joked, his eyes sparkling with tears.

"After you tricked me on your sixth birthday, and locked me out of the house because you wanted to watch a wildly inappropriate movie."

"Sounds like something I'd do." Gareth clasped her hand tighter. "What do you need me to do?"

"Take the gun, point it at my head, and pull the trigger. Gareth, I can't do this now. My hands, I can't feel my hands anymore. Or my legs." Mary was disgusted at her pitiful lack of strength. "It will be quick, my son."

Instead of fighting her like she assumed he would, he did not say anything as he stood up, and took the gun that was offered to him. Forcing her eyes on her son, it was hard to know what he was feeling when he always kept a firm handle on his emotions. Unlike what she _thought_ she would feel when she met the end, she felt peace.

Even the pain was not nearly as terrible now that she would soon be leaving it to go someplace better. Closing her eyes when Gareth aimed the gun, she counted in her head until she heard the bang. The darkness that enveloped her life ever since the turn, was no more.

Light surrounded Mary in ways that bowled her over and left her speechless. Before she could even find her footing, she was assaulted with a hug so tight it almost knocked her over. Standing back to get a look at who was so happy to see her, tears came to her eyes when she saw Alex with a smile on his face. His trademark hoodie was on him, and he was standing with his father.

"Welcome home, Mom."

Unable to stop the tears that poured down her face, Mary simply let her actions do the talking. Stepping forward, she gripped her son tight, and sobbed into his shoulder. Those sobs were not for sadness, but were sobs of joy..

"We missed you, babe," Dan said, winking at her.

"I missed you. _Both_ of you."


	2. Chapter 2

A Fine Frenzy

The gnawing ache of hunger was what Gareth was used to after going through what he did during the siege. Even before, it was not like food had been in abundance at Terminus.

After the frenzy of the tank exploding, Gareth's main focus was doing something that would save the remaining members of his group. Albert was trailing along behind him, and Theresa was acting the part of his eyes and ears while his mind was a million miles away.

Greg and Mike were useless except for the extra muscle they gave the group. Even though Gareth knew his home was lost, he could not tear his thoughts away from his mother. The sweet woman who bore the brunt of the bandits when they came. She was found by him inches from death, and begging to be killed.

"Gareth?" Mike prodded, sensing something was amiss with his captain.

"We need to double back to the cabin. Find Martin. After that, we need to follow the plan and head for the woods."

Those words, spoken in a state of disbelief over what happened to them. Gareth once believed their security at Terminus was airtight, impossible for anyone to breach. He was starting to understand _why_ and _how_ so many places fell.

"What about _them_?" Theresa snarled, eyes aglow with a need for payback.

"What _about_ them?" Mike scoffed. "They'll be sorry when they're gagged and we're eatin' what's left of 'em."

Gareth never thought about turning Rick and his group into dinner. Sure, the idea _was_ appealing after losing it all after the explosion, but could he really dine on someone who killed his mother? He got his answer when he recalled the brutal way they murdered her. Maybe he never thought about eating them, but now he could not wait until they did.

"We have to be smart about it," Gareth warned, dropping his tone when a stray walker stumbled across them. "Rick is smart, dangerous."

"Won't make a difference," Albert shrugged. "We know how to bait 'em." Setting traps for people was what Terminus used to be, but Gareth never dreamed of doing it after.

Stopping in his tracks, Gareth raced forward and sank his knife into the walker. The act of doing it was physical, and it aided him in being able to release some of his frustration. Looking down at the dead face, he identified a man who looked to be in his early twenties.

"Find the weakest link," Gareth instructed, searching the pockets of the walker for anything they needed. "Once you have it, don't hesitate to reel him...or _her_ in." Contrary to what most people assumed about him once they uncovered the brutal truth about Terminus, he was not a violent person who wanted to do anything to those he met.

Circumstances had forced his hand more times than he was comfortable with. People had taken his home that he worked hard to transform into a community; they raped the women that had no defense against their cruelty. Now they were back in the same position as before, only they had no recourse against a group of people who were larger than they were. Every instinct he had was telling him to wait before launching an attack on them, and that was what he planned on doing.

They needed to gather their strength before they attempted something of that nature. As appealing as it was to turn Rick on a spit and enjoy his meat, he would not do that unless they had a good enough opening to do so. First thing was first, and that was satisfying the growing hunger that was nipping at his insides. It always made him uncomfortable to feel hungry when he had been there once before. In the darkest corner of the train car, he fought the growing urge to go out of his mind with the insatiable hunger.

"Well," Theresa said, chewing on the inside of her mouth. "Once we find Martin, wherever he is, we'll be that much stronger than before." The hope in her eyes was not a foolish one; they would need all the people they could find for an operation like that.

"That's what we need to focus on," Gareth agreed, stepping over some broken tree branches that stuck out at odd angles. "Rick and his people, they're tired and weak from the fight. They won't last long out here without supplies."

"They probably have some already," Albert said, his eyes growing wide with worry over their own situation.

"Then once we take them down, we'll have plenty to go around," Gareth said, massaging his temple with his fingers. There was nothing he wanted more than to lay down somewhere and sleep, but he couldn't until he made sure everyone was fine.

In the hurry of getting out alive from the fight, he did not see any of his people escape from the bloodbath that Terminus became. He had Mike, Greg, Albert, and Theresa with him, but the rest of his people were unaccounted for. He had a reasonable expectation that Martin made it through unscathed, but he could not be sure. His mother, he found, had been torn apart by the dead when he was sure she would make it through.

Mary had been full of the same grit and determination that he possessed. Always a closeted 'Mama's boy' when everyone (wrongfully) assumed that it was Alex, he nearly lost the mantra that repeated in his mind whenever circumstances got the better of him: Don't cry.

When he found her (struggling for each breath she took) in the church that used to be a place to purge the feelings of shame and grief that came with what happened to them, he fought against the feeling in his gut that let him know she would not survive. Her stomach was ripped open, and her arms and legs bore additional signs of damage. That was still his mother, and no matter how many times he had the truth stamped into his mind, he could not accept it.

Holding her in his lap as he fought to find a loophole for her survival, she looked at him with eyes that had seen the loss of her family before the turn, and even after when her husband was killed. As a nurse, she knew what her odds were, and she had none. Standing with a strength that did not belong to him, he gripped the gun and shot her in the head.

"Hey," Theresa said, appearing at his side. The dark circles under her eyes became more pronounced under the intense scrutiny of the sun. "Where did your head disappear to?"

"Before she...before my Mom died, she saw who let the dead in." Her words were ingrained on his mind, and only furthered his desire for revenge.

"Who was it?" Greg inquired, ducking behind a tree when a group of the dead came through. "Someone from Rick's side?"

"Said it was a lady with silver hair. She was bathed in walker guts, and let the dead mosey on through."

If nothing else, Gareth wanted to find the woman who killed his last remaining family. Her death would have never happened if she had not been attacked. But first he had to find her, and possibly even fix his hurt shoulder that had been grazed by Rick's bullet.

Wrapping his hand around the site, he traversed up a steep hill that would take them to the cabin. Keeping an eye out for anyone who might be lurking around, he put his hand around his gun. In the distance, Gareth could hear the familiar growl of the dead.

"She can't be allowed to live. Not after what she did." Theresa was arguing, her voice cutting through like a knife.

"I know. Trust me." Stumbling forward when a dead hand groped his ankle, Gareth quickly put it down. "But we can't afford to be reckless now."

Once he scanned the area for signs of the dead and saw none, he signaled his group that it was safe to continue. Jogging up a steep hill that was right below the cabin, his natural confidence that Martin was fine, started to slip when he did not see a sign of him. The windows were dusted, but clear enough to see inside. Holding his breath as the group continued to inspect the cabin, he jumped when a moan came from behind the structure.

Raising his gun on instinct, he let it drop when he saw the battered face he wanted to see coming closer. Martin was alive, but his face bore horrific signs of being hit. No matter what (or _who_ ) was the cause, he could not deny that he was glad to see that he was fine.

"What happened to you?" Albert asked, his face growing whiter by the second. One eye appeared to be swollen shut.

"Chick beat you up?" Greg laughed, taking interest in his own sense of humor.

"Someone forget to watch where he was going?" Gareth smirked, though he could tell his humor was lost on his friend.

"More like I got my face rearranged by a dude who didn't even have the sack to finish the job." Martin's whine at the end, was not totally unexpected.

Looking him over more closely once he walked nearer to him, Gareth could indeed see that his injuries were from something human. Over the years, he had learned to tell the difference between punches. Glad that at least _one_ of his people made it out, Gareth was already planning ahead.

They would need to find some place to rest their heads that night before planning anything more concrete. The problem was finding something that would pass for safe. Reaching into the bag of things he nabbed from the supply room, he pulled out a wrinkled map.

"Hey," Theresa said, stooping down to find a dressing for Gareth's shoulder. "Who _were_ those folks that beat you up?"

Martin shrugged, shying away from the touch Theresa offered him. Shaking his head at the two of them, Gareth leaned over the map and saw a few places of interest.

"I don't know who they were. They had a baby with 'em."

"Was there a lady there?" Gareth asked, wincing when Theresa applied the wrap to his arm. "With, uh, silver hair?"

"Yeah, real samurai she was. Went out there with all guns blazin."

Theresa promptly stopped what she was doing to look at the man who cowered under the look she was giving him. Usually, Gareth would have demanded more from his friend, but he was sure he could not handle it that evening. His head pounded, and his heart ached with grief for Alex and their mother.

How could he have lost everything in one fell swoop? His brother, the one he leaned on when only he could understand, was dead after Rick turned him into a shield. Watching him fall like a sack of potato's, had been almost like watching a slow motion movie.

His _mother,_ the woman who birthed him, had been nothing but a walker chew toy when he found her by chance. Glad that she did not have to suffer alone, that was the only mercy she received. Putting the bullet in her brain had been hard, but he did it out of a want to end her suffering.

"You didn't think to let us know that some crazy chick was headin' our way?" Greg demanded, stepping toward him.

"My hands were tied! Want to figure that out on your own?" Martin snapped, his hands flexing into fists.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Gareth said, interrupting what would have likely turned into a raging fight. "Did they have names?"

Nothing would come out of finding her if he did not have the right information. Moving a backpack to the other shoulder, Gareth looked around for any sign of Rick or his people.

"Carol...Judith the baby...and Tyreese."

"We'll be careful, and we'll keep an eye out for anything else we might need." Gareth wanted to find the group, but he could not pull miracles.

"Well, maybe Mary can cook us up somethin' once we settle down someplace."

Gareth forced himself to keep walking. His shoulder throbbed, but that was nothing in comparison to how his heart hurt. He almost forgot that Martin would have no way of knowing about her death. While the two of them were never close, Martin still liked to share a joke or two with her, and never turned down an offering of her stew. Mary, for her part, tolerated him as part of the group. Part of _them_.

"She...she died, man," Mike said, saving Gareth the impossible task of talking about her death.

"She did?" Martin's face fell at that news. "When?"

"I don't know," Gareth said, holding his hand up when a walker tripped down a slippery hill. "I found her. In the church. She was already dying...told me about the woman that slipped through."


	3. Chapter 3

Gareth thought it was amazing that his family somehow forged the mental and physical strength to carry on through some of the worst pain that threatened to take them if they were not careful. This was something that they were used to after losing most of their family in the months following the apocalypse. Their bond together had been what had aided them in reclaiming Terminus after those people came through it.

Walking was something physical that helped Gareth dedicate his attention to something other than the avalanche of grief that seemed determined to torment him. His mind, always a blessed place of surety, was now giving him the worst kind of hell as he walked through the moment he found his mother in the church. Her spirit was still strong, but her body had long since given up the fight.

Dropping to his knees behind her, Gareth used every last ounce of mental dexterity to be a source of comfort to his dying Mom. His hands that had shed more blood than he liked to think about, brushed her hair from her eyes with the utmost care. His eyes, the same ones Mary used to look at during long nights in the train car, focused on her while he tried to push his mind to accept the fact that she was dying. Her bite wounds were fatal, and she was losing the fight to keep breathing.

This was the same woman who not only went through a traumatizing childhood, and came out on the other side to become a trauma nurse, but she was also the one who raised him and his brother to be tough despite what their circumstances might be. It was those indelible lessons that aided him during the planning for their escape from their captors. It was what was holding him upright in that moment as the sun slipped from the horizon.

The only time he could remember her crying after they took the compound back, was when he found her in the church after Alex had been killed by Rick. Her posture was uneven as she sank to her knees in a defeated slump that broke his heart. Not wanting to intrude on her privacy, he kept back while he watched her back shake. When she had recovered from the worst of her pain, Gareth studied her as she took a piece of chalk in her hand.

Not able to stand back any longer when she needed him more than anything, he came up to her side and dropped to his knees next to her. Her chestnut hair kept most of her face hidden from him, but he could see tracks of tears that ran like a river down her face. They had not simply lost another person in their group they could replace before too long. They lost their son, their brother, and the light that never stopped smiling even after the siege.

How many times had Alex come up with a remark during the long hours spent in their prison that would help put a smile on their faces? Even after he was made to accept the new world they lived in after they got Terminus back, he never lost the ability to smile. It was a gift Gareth often wished he could have for himself.

"Mom-" he spoke softly, caressing her with a hand that was not balled into a fist as he tried to keep himself from crying. The last thing he wanted was for _anyone_ to see him cry. "I was...I was looking for you."

"I'm sorry, baby. I just needed to gather my thoughts. This place," Mary gestured around, "it's the only place that seemed right."

Gareth nodded, increasing the pressure on her shoulder that he was squeezing. "Greg told me. He said you were hellbent on getting here."

Once the adrenaline died down after he got Rick and his people corralled into the car, his thoughts turned inward toward the pain he worked so hard to keep suppressed. Most of the time, he was able to build a mask that kept his true feelings concealed. Now that he lost his brother, he realized he would have to work doubly hard at putting on his public persona.

He was prepared for this; he was ready to look down at his dinner plate that evening, and realize that he was eating his brother's meat. Alex would not have protested the community dining on him. On the contrary, he would have disapproved of his body being wasted for a proper burial. No matter how hard it would be to choke down this meal, Gareth would do it knowing that he was doing something Alex would prefer.

"I needed time to process." Gareth did not doubt the validity of that statement. Her voice trembled despite her efforts to be strong. "What about them? Rick and the others?"

"They're about to be brought in. We got a few more hours until we have to bury this crap for public face. But for right now, he's gonna be questioned, and then lights out."

Gareth could not remember hating anyone either before or _after_ the turn. Not until the bandits tore through his home, and killed several of his people. Once that hatred was bred in his heart, he found it unsettling how easy it was for him to turn his captors into their meal, and lock up the lone one. Even though pure evil had come through Terminus, Gareth tried not to let his heart get weighed down with the anger he still had. That was before Rick found them.

Mary nodded, tucking her hair behind her. "Who's going to be doing the butchering?" Her eyes suddenly seemed to revive with an interest that Gareth could not place.

"Mike or Greg. Why?" Picking up the chalk, he clenched it in his hand, before bending over the long list of names. Alex never should have been among the dead listed, and that pained Gareth.

Mary chewed on the inside of her mouth as she took the chalk from her son, and wrote a special tribute to him. "I want to do it. I want to be the one to-"

"Kill him?" Gareth never thought he would hear such a request come from her.

"Yes," Mary nodded resolutely. "I want him to look me in the eyes. I want my face to be the last one he sees before he dies."

Gareth did not have the heart to deny her what she wanted when she was just forced to watch her son get shot in the head. He was not sure how far it would go in helping her recover, but he knew they all coped in different ways. "Okay." Secretly, he was proud of her for her grit. It was how he wanted everyone in their group to act when tragedy struck.

Although Gareth had to admit that seeing his mother with such bloodlust in her eyes, was not what he was used to when all he had ever known her to be was gentle with everyone that came through their doors. Her years spent as a nurse, had carried over into this post-turn world, and she spent her days either by the grill or in the hospital tending to wounds. Luckily for them, the times when one of their own was seriously ill, was extremely rare.

Looking down at the name he had just written on the ground next to the name of their father, he could not believe he was having to think up a way they could pay tribute to their son and brother. A name and a few heartfelt words from Mary, would not be nearly enough to honor Alex. He was everything to Gareth and Mary, and the only family they had left. Their father and cousin had died right after the turn took a hit for the worst, and Gareth decided that they were the victors. He could not imagine how they would have fared if they had been made to survive in that world.

Running his hands over his own neat handwriting, he wondered what Alex would be saying to them if he was there with them. He would not like seeing them so heartbroken over his death. He would want them to pick themselves up off the ground, and carry on somehow. Running a hand down his face, he wondered how he would go about that when he relied on him more than he liked to admit. Alex was sloppy in some of the things he did, but he was still the same goofy brother that liked to celebrate the passing of an exam by going out to their campus bar. He was the brother who gave him (unwanted) love advice. And the one who helped his older brother keep his humanity.

"We'll be okay," Mary whispered, breaking him from his thoughts. "This lull, it will lift. It always does, right? This pain won't be with us forever, Gareth."

"How long is forever?" Gareth whispered, hating the sound of his own voice when it sounded like someone who could not fathom standing up from the floor. "Because I don't see it lifting anytime soon."

Mary was silent for a heartbeat. "Do you remember when Lawrence died? He was your cousin, your best friend, and the only person besides Alex that you were closest to. When he got bit, you were devastated and understandably so, but you found a way to not let the pain control you."

"I shoved it down. The parts that made me want to lose it, I just made myself not remember it."

"That was hard on you, and I know that. It was hard on me to lose my sister through this, but we have each other, Gareth. We do. That's not intended to be some sappy sentiment, but it really is the honest truth. We can do anything together, but apart is when we get messy."

"I know." Gareth bowed his head while a few tears worked their way out. "I never should have had him show the new folks around. He was always nervous." Hindsight was 20/20, and it was a lethal obstacle for Gareth to work through. Failure was not something he was used to.

"Stop it," Mary scolded, giving him a look he buckled under. "Alex was the ideal one to give tours because he was always so easy-going with people. You cannot blame yourself for this."

Gareth was about to protest that he absolutely _could_ blame himself for his brother's death, but his mother producing the clothes Alex had on when he died, stopped him short. He was always a fan of hoodies, and liked to wear them even when it was sweltering out. Gareth remembered their youth when he rarely saw Alex take one of them off, and that was one of many reasons why he loved to tease him. Taking the articles of clothing in his trembling hands, he brought them up to his nose and inhaled the scent. They still smelled like Alex, and it brought tears to his eyes.

Ordinarily when one of their own died, they would take their personal artifacts to the storage room to keep on hand in case someone else wanted or needed them. In the case of a personal death, Gareth could never part with Alex's belongings for anything.

"He always liked these damn hoodies," Gareth mused. "You would have thought, in ninety degree weather, that he would part with them, but nope."

"I know!" Mary laughed, sending warmth down Gareth's spine. "He was always so fond of them. The first one he ever had was when he was five, and he held onto that thing until it finally tore. Even then, he begged me to sew it for him."

"Did you?"

"I had to. It would have been cruel not to."

Gareth nodded, scratching something on the edge of his nose. "Do you think we should have a funeral for him? Not one in the technical sense, but more of a chance to say goodbye?" The thought had crossed his mind, but Terminus was not a set-up that spent too much time paying tribute to the dead.

Mary was thoughtful as she considered his question. In that instant, Gareth could see her playing the role of his mother, and a secondary role as his advisor when everything in his life was being turned upside down. "I think we need to take time to heal. If that means having a memorial, I think that would be a fine way to honor him."

Gareth nodded, lost in a twisted maze of his own thoughts, as he stood up. He had to get inside the killing floor before Greg and Mike took out Rick and his people. Even though he had no want to see either of those people before they were on his dinner plate, he needed to pull information from Rick before his mother came in to finish the job. Giving her one final hug, he made himself put one foot in front of the other and leave the church that had become a means to purge all of their feelings.

He was glad he had chosen to add Alex's name to the tributes on the floor. It gutted him to recognize him as one of their fallen, but he also refused to ignore his brother's passing. His conversation with Mary also weighed heavily on his mind as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. She was always the epitome of strength, and watching her break down while he watched, was not something he ever wanted to bear witness to again. The sun beat down on his face, creating a heat that rivaled the thick hotness behind his eyes that wanted him to expel more tears.

The conversation he had with his mother in the church that was a special place to both of them, was the last one he ended up getting to have with her before he found her dying on the floor. While he was still knelt in front of the trough that Rick and his group would be bled out over, he heard the first of several bangs that sounded suspiciously like gunfire. He never allowed his people to fire their weapons without having a sound cause to do so. Too many walker problems otherwise. Radioing his men on the ground, he heard nothing but static that sank through his ears like lava.

"Chuck?" He pressed the button on the walkie, and waited for his man to respond. He always did. Even when it was inconvenient for him to do so. Chuck was one of those people that aimed to please the boss whenever he could. "You copy?" No answer. Something was wrong.

Gareth supposed his mind slipped into a dangerous trap of denial as he was made to watch his home fall to pieces around him. There was nothing he could do to keep it when they had lost so much of their supply stash. Not only that, the tank had exploded, and several of the dead were now prowling through an opening that was made by someone from the outside. From what he gathered from an annoyed Martin, the lady had grey hair and a death wish.

And his mother was _dead_. He had put a bullet through her brain after finding her in the sacred church that had been important to them both. She had fallen next to the names of her deceased son and husband. That was not lost on him, and he wished he could have stopped what he was doing to have a funeral for her. She deserved it after the cruel life she had led.

A concerned hand touching his arm, made him remember where he was. He was in the woods just beyond what used to be his home. Thick billows of smoke rose above the trees that used to encircle the cabin. Instead of it being a dream like he hoped, he really was walking through the woods with the remaining members of his team. The concerned hand was from Theresa, who had her eyes fixed on the wound on his shoulder which was already starting to look questionable.

They would have to stop somewhere for the night, and treat the wound that was starting to become infected. No stranger to pain after being beaten and forced to watch his mother raped by the men that came through his home, he wondered what he would be like once someone dug the bullet from his shoulder. Theresa was the only one in their group who had medical experience from the careful hours Mary spent teaching her. Gareth had the sneaking suspicion that she taught Theresa in case she would not be around to care for them.

Slowing his pace once he heard something beyond a cluster of trees, he reached for his knife and motioned for his group to proceed slowly. Chances were, it was a walker or two, but he wanted them to be prepared. Ignoring the pain that ripped through his shoulder when he moved it the wrong way, he crept forward when he heard the snarling sounds of the beast. From what he heard, it was only one walker, and not many they would have to deal with. Tightening his grasp around his weapon until the tips of his fingers turned red, he adopted a stealth mode that let him slink around the trees.

As he predicted once he rounded a sharp turn, the walkers were there and feasting on something that looked like it could have been a deer. A vital source of food that his group needed right then. Facing the threat once the walkers turned toward him, he met the first one head-on and slammed his knife through its skull. The others were taken care of by Albert and Martin. Both of them looked exhausted, but still alive enough to do the job.

"We need to stop here and figure out what we're doing," Gareth announced. "Albert, take this knife, and mark the tree next to you."

The teen took the knife with eager hands, but looked confused as to what he should write. "Mark it with what?" He had always been eager to please, and this was no different.

"An A. A simple A. That way, when we need to, we can find our way back." There was nothing _to_ go back to, but it was nice to have that option.

"Gareth," Theresa whispered, once Albert started carving the letter into the tree. "We need to look at your shoulder. You got hit pretty bad." Her face was sweaty, but still burned with concern for him.

"I'm fine. Or at least, I will be once we get everything in order." He did not like being unorganized when everything was a mess. Taking a map from his things, he spread it on the ground. "What about this school?"

The elementary school was only a few miles from where they stood. It gave him the distance he wanted from Terminus, and also afforded him the chance to think about taking revenge against Rick. Plus, the possibility of supplies was something they desperately needed. Recalling that Albert went to a school in that area, he turned to the teen once he sank down next to him.

"That school used to be mine," Albert said, confirming what Gareth suspected. "Was about the only place I felt at home in."

"A _school_ felt more like home to you than the real thing?" Martin looked at him as though he had grown two heads.

"My home life was never that great. I used to stay there as long as I could." Stretching his arms above his head, Albert looked at the name of the school with fondness.

"Meet many chicks there?" Mike asked, knuckling Albert in the ribs.

"Some."

"We're going there," Gareth decided. "We can keep an eye on Rick that way." Gareth knew how risky it was to launch an attack on a group bigger than his, but he could never let these killers go free.

Moving down the path with more purpose in his step now that he knew where he was going, Gareth paid no mind to the nagging pain in his shoulder. His mind was too far away to notice much of anything other than what was in front of him. His heart pounded under his chest, and his eyes ached with tiredness. Hearing something that sounded like someone talking to him, he turned to see Martin quietly pouting.

Martin had gotten his face beat up and lost his home, so Gareth tried not to give him too much flack over his immaturity. Martin, on the other hand, clearly was not willing to give his leader the same respect. Taken aback when Martin stepped in front of him, he was aware of Theresa moving beside him.

"Listen," Martin said. "I'm real sorry about your Mom. She was an incredible lady, and we'll all miss her." He paused, clearly working up the nerve to say what he said next: "But Alex? He was sloppy, and that is why he's dead."

Gareth had no idea what Martin had been trying to say to him before he chose to say what he said, but it was clearly something important that he failed to pick up on. It took every ounce of control Gareth had to not punch Martin across the face. Theresa, on the other hand, had no qualms about letting Martin know what she thought. Especially when it concerned their leader.

"Did you really just say that?" Theresa snarled. "Sometimes, I swear, you have the emotional range of a _rat_."

"I was just sayin-" Martin began, taking a step toward Theresa.

"Don't 'just say' when your brain can't seem to catch up with your mouth."

Gareth would have loved to have watched Theresa put Martin in his place for awhile longer, but they had work to do. Gesturing for them to continue, he tried to let go of what Martin said. A good leader never let on when he was hurting. He supposed it was his fault for letting his emotions get in the way. Covering the bullet wound with one hand, he held his gun in the other. They were approaching the school, and he could hear some activity from beyond.

Cursing the darkness in the sky, he made sure someone was using a flashlight. They had gone into dangerous spots before at night, but he was suddenly unsure of his prowess as their leader when he clearly could not even fake hiding his sorrow. Marching faster down the dirt road, he held his hand up when they reached the school. The old building was mostly intact, but was suffering from a walker infestation.

The grounds were clear apart from some totters that had their legs chopped off, and were pitifully trying to reach the people in their midst. Wondering who would leave a walker alive and go through the trouble of amputating the legs, he drove his knife through the skull, and stood back. The inside of the school was dark, but several more of the dead were banging on the weak glass. Gareth knew it would break, everything always did sooner or later.

What was more pressing was the need to sort what they still needed. Sinking to the ground for the first time in awhile, it felt good to rest his taxed body, even if it was only for a few minutes. His eyes were wandering to the doors and windows, hoping they could use of the entrances to get the supplies still in there. It had been too long since he was made to survive in a world that offered no mercy, and it was bad.

"Hey," Theresa said, stooping down next to him. "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"How I could listen to you putting Martin in his place for the next decade." Theresa was the only one out of all of them who had no problem doing just that.

"Well, he deserved it. I knew he had _zero_ tact, but he might have outdone himself."

Gareth smiled. "He's always been unique."

"I sorta regret ever bringing him back. I was with Mary putting up signs, and he looked like a lost puppy dog. If I had just shooed him off and told him to go catch a ball, maybe we wouldn't be screwed."

Gareth shook his head, digging through his things for a blue lighter. Flicking it between his fingers, he sought an escape from the confusion and fury that was there in his heart. "You wouldn't have left him. Your heart isn't as icy cold as mine."

Theresa scoffed. "I'm the ice queen. Not you. Actually, I'm a blizzard." A sad smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I'm sorry about your Mom. She was an absolutely amazing person."

Gareth thought he would be used to this by now; he thought he would get used to people telling him how sorry they were that he lost his remaining family. With Greg, Mike, and Albert, it was something they said out of obligation. It would be rude of them not to say something. With Theresa, he could see how genuine she was. Could hear it in the hitch her voice made, and even when her hand flexed as though she was not sure whether she should take his hand or not.

Theresa had come from the tracks right after they first found the compound. In many ways, Theresa was a mystery that Gareth had the feeling he would never quite decode. "Thank you. She was…" finding the words to speak about Mary, was harder than he thought it would be.

"She was the love of your life. And that's not a bad thing, Gareth." Theresa finally moved past what had been holding her back before, and squeezed his arm. The touch felt soothing to him, but Gareth knew he could not afford to be rendered weak if he gave into what he wanted.

"I'm assuming you mean that in a totally non-creepy way." Gareth laughed easily, taking care to gently remove her hand from his arm. "Let's go check this school out."

"Yeah, sure," Theresa said, hiding the disappointment on her face by taking her knife from its holster. "Maybe, if we're lucky, we can find some crackers or something to tide us over until our _feast_."

"One thing at a time," Gareth reminded her, easily standing up despite the pain in his shoulder. "First we have to scour this place for essentials. After that? We can start to plan what we'll do about _them_." At first, the thought of eating his mother's killers was repulsive, but now he could think of nothing better to dine on.

"We already know what we're doing about them. We'll track them, cook them, and then eat them." Her way of thinking was meticulous, and that was why Gareth often found himself wandering toward her whenever something big was about to go down. He liked having a right hand woman to keep him in line, and also say things he might not think to say.

"When you say it like that," Gareth jested. "It sounds so easy, but there's logistics to consider."

Too many for him to feel comfortable with. He was used to herding their meat when he was within the walls of Terminus. That was something he was prepared for, something that he pulled off with ease after perfecting it after a few messy tries. Becoming hunters in a fallen world? That was not something he was accustomed to. Not something he ever thought he would have to face again.

"Let's go check out this place." Nodding at Theresa's words, he readied himself to face the walkers.


End file.
